


Pursuit of Happiness

by StarkPuppy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Artist Steve Rogers, Blood and Violence, Bottom Tony Stark, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt Steve Rogers, Husbands, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marriage, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protective Steve Rogers, Romance, Sex, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Top Steve Rogers, Young Tony Stark, a lot of fluff but equally a lot of angst, try me i dare you, young Steve rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 11:12:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19744555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkPuppy/pseuds/StarkPuppy
Summary: Anthony Edward Stark had always been a human of logic. The right side of the brain. Numbers, shapes, materials, ingredients. He knew this from a very early age, and for some time as he grew, he was convinced it would play out like that the rest of his life.Then he met Steven Grant Rogers.__A 1940's AU where Steve and Tony have to make due with what they got, and sacrifice everything in order to give each other what they think they need.





	Pursuit of Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with my bullshit. This is an AU where pretty much the boys grow up during WWII and then they make due with what they can. A lot of homophobia in this, because I imagine what it would be like loving the same sex and it sounds terrible. 
> 
> A lot of angst and violence. 
> 
> The tags will be updated as I go and maybe the rating as well. 
> 
> No warnings for this chapter. 
> 
> ENJOY!

* * *

Anthony Edward Stark had always been a human of logic. The right side of the brain. Numbers, shapes, materials, ingredients. He knew this from a very early age, and for some time as he grew, he was convinced it would play out like that the rest of his life.

Then he met Steven Grant Rogers.

He was 7. Just a year younger than him but he _knew_. He _saw_ it, but most importantly; he _felt_ it.

Music, colors, scents, and words.

Had you asked Maria, his mother if Tony was a sociable child she would have knitted her brows and showed her confusion. That was until he met Steve.

Words, strangest of all had manifested in Tony. In a way that was absurd to most, but to Steve it was very special. It was as if Tony couldn’t tell you things fast enough. He wanted you to listen, to know, to react to the things he thought were wonderful.

It was inevitable.

A moth to the flame, unbeknownst as to who was who when they became inseparable.

Sarah Rogers, Steve’s mother worked for Tony’s family for some time. Sarah being a single mother, Maria did not mind when she had brought Steve along. About the same age as her _tesoro_.

Maria called him a treasure. Steve couldn’t agree more.

Tony and Steve lived very different lives when they weren’t around one another. Steve attended a public school, where Tony knew he had friends. Lots of them.

There was Sam, Nat, Clint and Bucky. Bucky, to Steve was very important. Steve had told Tony once, and once was the only time Tony needed to hear and know that Bucky, was another one of the things that made Steve happy; Tony had a mental list.

Tony had friends, too. His didn’t come as easily as Steve’s, but they came eventually and they were great, too. There was Pepper, Bruce, and Rhodey. Rhodey, to Tony was very important. Tony had only mentioned him once, and once was the only time Steve needed to hear that and know that Rhodey, was another of the things that made Tony happy; Steve had a page in his sketchbook with a list.

Tony’s favorite holiday wasn’t Christmas where unbeknownst to Howard, Maria spoiled him rotten. It wasn’t Thanksgiving where he spent the day with Jarvis and helped with the pies.

It was the Fourth of July.

Steve’s birthday was Tony’s favorite holiday. Steve spent the summers with the Starks. His mom would arrive at the house at 7 a.m sharp, and leave at 9 p.m after dinner. So naturally, when the 4th of July rolled around it was only natural for Steve to spend it with Tony.

It was his favorite because he would beg his mother for the best toy of the season and save it for Steve. It was his favorite day of the year because he sat and helped Jarvis make the best chocolate cake with red, white, and blue sprinkles for Steve. Then they would sit out back and watch the fireworks.

Tony was heartbroken when he found out that Sarah and Steve had stayed home for the day because Steve was sick. It wasn’t a big deal, Tony would give him his gift and cake tomorrow, or when he was back and feeling better.

Except that for the remainder of that summer, Steve never came back.

At 13, Tony had built his first circuit board. At 14, in that same garage that summer, Steve had finally learned how to capture Tony’s hands perfectly on his sketchbook. Hundreds upon hundreds of sketches littered Steve’s sketchbook but on his 674th try, he finally perfected it. His long, nimble fingers. His neatly trimmed nails with the occasional slit of oil underneath. The palm of his hand littered with the most perfect lines and callouses.

In Steve’s mind, God wouldn’t be able to re-create Tony’s hands even if he tried to.

Tony bled himself into Steve’s life. How could he not? Steve was positive that Tony had absolutely no clue how deep he was engraved in Steve’s life. His messy brown hair, the curled ends sticking to his neck, his long eyelashes that made his dark eyes look angelic, and his lips that only opened to either laugh or tell Steve something that he found extraordinary.

He was 17, and Tony was 16. It was the last day of that summer when Steve decided he wanted Tony to show just how much.

Tony tasted of Jarvis’ sweet lemonade he had made for them as a reward for planting those orange trees on that hot summer day. They were cold, too. They were a delicious treat for Steve as he awkwardly pushed his own lips against Tony’s.

Steve kissed Tony like it was their only opportunity to kiss. He hadn’t said anything to Tony that summer, but that’s because he refused to believe his own gut feeling. He kissed Tony like this was their last summer together. Tony kissed him back.

Tony was 18 when he had to watch Steve burry his mother. He had never returned back to his house after the kiss they shared. But Maria had liked Sarah, so when she found out, she shared that information with Tony.

It was a small ceremony. It was Steve, his friends, Maria, Jarvis, and Tony.

At only 18 years old Tony watched Steve, his shoulders wrapped in Bucky’s arms, Tony _knew_.

Sure, Tony knew a lot of things. The first 400 numbers of Pi, how to make weapons, he knew all the slopes and the shapes, and how to make a bomb out of a few household scraps. All useless compared to Steve.

Tony knew the music of Steve’s voice, the color of his piercing blue eyes, the scent of his old leather jacket and of his spicy soap, but most importantly he knew the words. _I love him._

That’s how he knew that no numbers, materials, shapes, or ingredients could ever compare to the art that was Steven Grant Rogers.

Steve was 20 when he was startled out of bed at an ungodly hour of the morning. The door of his mom’s— now his apartment rattled loudly. Behind it stood Tony.

His nose bleeding, his hair a mess, and his lower lip swollen. His beautiful coffee eyes almost drowning in tears as they met Steve’s own.

God, those eyes. Steve thought as he reached out to touch Tony’s cheek. “Tony? What…what happened?” That’s when he felt the warm tear roll onto his palm.

“Can I please come in?” It was barely a whisper, Steve would have missed it had the silence not been so loud.

Steve let Tony in, not knowing he’d never leave.

* * *

“How do you do _that_?” Steve huffed out as the back of his head dropped down on his pillow, watching Tony emerge from between his legs. Steve’s cheeks flushed a delicious shade of pink. Tony licked his bottom lip, observing Steve in his post-orgasm haze. Tony’s masterpiece.

He had Steve blushing all over, Tony could almost describe him as a strawberry cupcake. “I have always been good with my hands, and mouth.” Tony gloated, spraying hot, open mouth kisses on Steve’s torso.

Steve had always been beautiful to Tony. Sure, he looked like the wind could break him when they were younger, but Steve had grown in more ways than one these past few years. After having his growth spurt when he was 17, Steve had been convinced by Bucky to join him in boxing classes after school.

When Tony had shown up at his door years later, he was a bit surprised to find that his childhood crush had been long gone, and in his place was a burning desire for the love of his life.

Steve hooked his finger on the silver chain that hanged off Tony’s neck and yanked him forward, pulling him into a deep kiss. Steve mindlessly played with the simple silver ring that was hooked on the chain. Pride swelled his chest.

Steve had his own matching chain and ring that hung down to his sternum. His most prized possession.

Tony had surprised Steve with the rings only a year after moving in with him. He didn’t need a chapel, or a ceremony. Tony was Steve’s husband because Steve willed it so. It was stronger than the word of God and the Law. Tony had welded them himself, which made them all the more special to Steve.

“Do you work today?” Tony broke apart the kiss to ask him. Steve had a very irregular work schedule to their misfortune, but today was Tony’s free day and he wanted to know if they could finally spend the entire day in bed like he’d been wanting to for a while.

“I don’t but I promised Buck I was going to train today for fight night next Saturday. Maybe somebody spots me and I can finally pull us out of this.” Steve gently brushed back Tony’s unruly hair before he noticed his lover’s pout. They’ve had this conversation a million times, Steve not rather have it again seeing as it always ended with Tony upset and Steve feeling guilty.

“Steve…” A disapproving groan was all Tony could muster, and they were having such a good morning… “Every time you come back from fight night I want to go run back there and beat whoever hurt you senseless.”

A loud laugh raptured through the tiny apartment and how could Tony not smile? God he loved Steve’s laugh.

“The thought of you valiantly defending my honor amuses me a lot.” Steve admitted, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along Tony’s neck.

Kisses and laughs aside, Tony still felt a very real pang of hurt in his chest. Some nights Steve would return from fight night with just a few bruises, maybe a split lip if he was lucky. But some others Bucky had to drag him through the door and help Tony tend to his wounds.

Tony was eternally grateful for Bucky. He looked out for Steve when Tony couldn’t, but Tony knew its been like that even before Steve and Tony even knew each other. But sometimes when he saw Steve all beat up, Tony wanted to beat Bucky up just as much for supporting Steve’s shenanigans.

“Like you defend mine?” Tony sat up on, his knees on each side of Steve’s thighs. Tony felt him sigh against his neck before placing one final kiss against his heated flesh.

“You know that’s different.”

“How?”

“Because!” Steve was now staring up into Tony’s eyes with anger and love. God, so much love. “I can take a beating, some kicks and punches but I can’t…won’t take anyone bad-mouthing you, Tony.”

Tony lived already with so much guilt he sometimes wondered how he slept at night. Steve noticed the guilt manifesting on Tony’s face and hugged him close.

Ah, yes. That’s how I sleep. Tony reminded himself with a smile before placing a light kiss on his lover’s forehead. “I know you can’t help it. But I’ve told you I’d much rather have someone talk shit about me than you not coming back to me again.”

Because Steve worked in the streets where people gossiped and murmured, a few knew about them. More than the few Tony would be comfortable with knowing. Their relationship was hardly welcomed. A taboo against the eyes of God. Steve couldn’t care less, neither did Tony but others did the caring for them in the form of insults and in Steve’s case violence itself.

The worst Tony had ever received came from his own father. That late summer night when Tony knew Steve wouldn’t come back like those other times, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He told Howard, who had already had a few drinks that he wanted Steve to move in. That he was in love with Steven, had been since they were kids.

That’s how Tony had ended up in front of Steve’s door at 3:00 AM beaten bloody by Howard and not a cent of his fortune in his pockets. Howard had made sure of it.

The aftermath of the war for people who had the financial misery Steve and Tony had was brutal. Tony would have been the heir to a multi-million dollar company had he not been gay, and when the winters were extra chilly in their small apartment, and the food was barely enough for them both; it burned in Steve’s mind.

Tony had never complained, and Steve thought he couldn’t love him more. Tony had been raised with every commodity known under the sun up until recently. He knew what he was signing up for when he renounced that life and moved in with Steve. Even if he did, he’d never let Steve catch wind of it.

Food, warmth and comfort be fucked. Tony didn’t need it. Tony did, however, need Steve. The rest would follow.

“Let me make you breakfast?” Tony stole a kiss from Steve as he slowly slid away from his heated body. Tony hissed as his feet met the freezing tile of the apartment. He slid on his boxers and headed towards the kitchen to feed Steve.

Steve watched Tony leave from the bed with a hazy smile before joining him in the kitchen after getting dressed. Steve took a seat as he watched Tony maneuver in the small space they called a kitchen. Nat had gifted them a loaf from the bakery she worked at, they had milk and Tony was making eggs that he managed to buy two days ago.

Sometimes Jarvis would stop by with some goodies for them, other times Clint, Nat, Bucky, Sam, Bruce, Pepper, and Rhodey and them would all go get pizza. Rhodey would always pay for Tony and Steve, not really taking no for an answer. Sometimes…they’d go to bed hungry.  
They hadn’t in a while, though. Tony was lucky enough to score a job in a factory that handled metal to be shipped all around the States. It was terrible, Tony was worked to the bone but it was worth it knowing it would be enough to at least feed themselves.

Steve hadn’t been so lucky in finding a job, resulting into him risking his life every weekend to try and impress boxing agencies who were looking for the new Brooklyn meat they could feed the veteran boxers.

Tony filled a glass with milk, presenting it to Steve as well as the plate that had one boiled egg with a side of the bread Nat had gifted them. They both ate in silence, casually exchanging glances as the whole apartment began to be showered in the morning light.

“Thank you.” Steve finished with a smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to Tony’s cheek as he collected the plates and headed over to clean up. It was roughly 8 in the morning when their door rattled open, revealing Bucky.

Bucky was the only other person besides Tony and Steve who had a key.

“Good mornin’,” His long hair had been tied back in a bun, his dark coat shielding him from the early January cold. Tony didn’t need to see to know that underneath that coat he wore tattered workout clothes he used when he sparred with Steve. “You ready?” He asked Steve, who was finishing up with the dishes.

“Bring him back in one piece? I like it when he’s not looking like he’s been chewed up by a dog.” Tony frowned, heading towards the room to bring out Steve’s coat.

“Don’t I always? Calm down, Stark. Its just sparring,” Bucky rolled his eyes at Tony, but he kept his own piercing blue eyes on Steve as he did so. “Nat might stop by with Clint later after she’s done at the bakery. She heard you were making casserole for Steve tonight.”

“And pray tell, where she got that information?” Tony emerged from the bedroom with Steve’s coat in his hands, glaring daggers at Steve for being so loose lipped. “Jarvis stopped by yesterday with some groceries, tell Sam not to be late if he wants a plate.” Tony slid the coat over Steve before pecking his lips.

“Will do. Let’s go, Punk.” Bucky jerked his head towards the door before giving Tony a simple nod goodbye.

“Love you.” Steve kissed Tony’s temple gently before kissing his lips. It was always hard to stay away from Tony, but he willed himself to. He wanted to give Tony a happy, a better life with him.

“I love you, too. Please be careful.” God, Tony knows that Steve had turned him into an all squishy mess. Pepper would be proud.

With those last words, Steve disappeared behind Bucky, leaving Tony to sigh silently to himself as he tried to bask in the morning light.

* * *

“Nope, try again.” Bucky shoved Steve back, dodging one of his hooks.

Their morning routine consisted of jogging to the gym then spending the next 5 hours training. A mixture of actual boxing and cardio filled Steve’s morning, and as much as he sometimes didn’t want to leave Tony’s side, Steve had grown to love his routine.

The floor of the boxing ring was sprinkled with both Steve and Bucky’s sweat as they danced around each other. Shuffling back and forth, dodging and landing punches as best of them could.

The gym belonged to Sam’s grandfather who had passed away sometime ago. Sam had very generously given Steve and Bucky a key so they could come and go as they pleased. It was small, it was practical, and it had everything they needed. It always smelled of worn out leather and chalk.

“You’re not bobbing and weaving. You can’t punch yourself out of something every time or you’re going to get exhausted.” Bucky reminded Steve as he prepared his counter attack. He dodged Steve’s hook once more and retaliated with a clean jab on the side of Steve’s head.

Even though they were practicing Bucky always made it a point not to strike Steve too hard. He had other people already doing that for him. Bucky was in the smaller leagues, he managed to find guidance under an agency led by Nicholas Fury who had taken interest in him after a street match.

He was training for Steve to follow in his steps, hopefully for him to get noticed just as he had, but Steve was much less patient than Bucky. He fought like there was somewhere he needed to be after, making his moves much more sloppy then they needed to be.

Bucky was proud of Steve, however. The kid had gone from a pencil to a long, mean, big fighting machine. Steve had the height, the muscles, now he just needed the technique.

“I need to get noticed tomorrow night,” Steve huffed as he danced around Bucky, waiting for the perfect time to strike. He lunged forward, slightly missing Bucky’s jaw by a few centimeters. “They’re going to cut our water if we don’t pay before next week.”

When it was Bucky’s turn to retaliate, he didn’t. He stared at Steve with what could only be described as worry. They had a plan. Bucky would help Steve train, become the best of the best and they would do this the right way.

Steve wanted to scrap on the streets, where sometimes people would bring knives to a first fight, where they cheated and where there was no rules.

Tony would never forgive Bucky.

“Steve..you could just ask to borrow some money I know you’ll pay me—” Before Bucky could finish that sentence he had one of Steve’s fists coming to meet his face in full force. This time, it grazed his chin.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. You have Nat and your kid on the way, I won’t ask for a cent.” Steve huffed out, angry whilst adrenaline coated him from head to toe. His hardheadedness sometimes made Bucky want to shove his face against a wall.

“The kid has 8 more months to go, and your water money isn’t going to make or break his arrival. Or hers. Whichever,” Bucky snapped back, shuffling on his feet to block another one of Steve’s punches with his shoulder. “Still a better idea than watching you get hurt in an alleyway and then having to explain to your husband why I brought you back looking like week-old gum.”

Bucky knew that Steve did the things he did and the way he did them because he had Tony on this untouchable throne. It wasn’t Tony’s fault, but Bucky didn’t think he knew about it either. He knew that Steve spent entire summers with Tony in a mansion with everything he would ever need. So Steve broke his back, arms, and everything else he could put on the line so he could give Tony back at least something that resembled what he had before.

Steve was an idiot, and Tony too, in Bucky’s eyes.

“Please,” Steve huffed out, his hands near his face in a typical boxing stance. Bucky could sit here and try to talk Steve out of this all day, they would get nowhere. He knew from the look in Steve’s eyes. “I see him come from work every night, hands swollen and barely able to stand and I can’t help but think I could be doing more. I should be doing more.”

There was a long pause of silence as Bucky and Steve shared a silent argument with their eyes. “Fine. I can take you tomorrow night to Rumlow’s and see if he wants to throw you a bone. If you manage to get a fight and win he’ll give you something,” Bucky couldn’t even look at Steve in the eyes as he gave in. He was focused on taking off his boxing gloves, sweat rolling down his arms.

“Thank you, Buck. Just…don’t mention it to Tony or Nat tonight at dinner? I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

“I’m not the brightest, punk, but even I wouldn’t blab off to Stark who would probably chuck me out of your apartment window.” He chuckled back at his blonde, stubborn brother.

They weren’t blood related, but Steve was his brother. He would protect him as much as his life allowed him to, and Steve knew that.

“Uhuh, lets finish up with some weights.” Steve proposed as he began taking off his gear. His body ached, but he heard the jingle of his necklace. It was a constant reminder that he had to keep pushing.

* * *

“So you stole these?” Tony looked up from the piece he was dismantling and focused on Bruce who held a wide but light metal piece in his hand. He stood by the cart Tony had brought over from outside his apartment.

“Yes and no?” With a grunt, Tony stood up and took said piece from Bruce, examining it carefully. “Some of these the factory that I work for consider faulty and dump outside to then be picked up by trucks. Sometimes I get the lucky shift before they get scooped up and find scraps.”

It sounded innocently enough, but Bruce knew better. Not that he really minded, it was just he’d rather Tony not get persecuted for doing something so silly.

“Right, right. So you mentioned dinner tonight?” Bruce promptly changed the subject, not wanting to dwindle around the subject any longer. He watched as Tony flattened out one of his blueprints and began to de-assemble a radio.

Bruce was Tony’s partner-in-crime when it came to his works. His true work and passion in life. He had met Bruce at MIT and the two clicked instantly, thanks to their big brains. “Yeah, I invited everyone. Although, I don’t think Pepper will be able to make it.”

Bruce wasn’t as good at engineering as Tony, but he could keep up. Plus, he had very steady hands. He had a decent garage they could work with. “So remind me what you’re building again? Another toaster?”

“Sure, a toaster with wheels.” Bruce furrowed his brows in clear confusion. “I’m building Steve a motorcycle.” Tony cleared up with pride.

“A motorcycle? Don’t you need more than a radio and more than just factory scraps for that?” Bruce hated to put a dent in Tony’s master plan, but his honesty was always appreciated; according to Tony.

“One day at a time, Brucey. It’s January, I’ll have it ready to go before his birthday in July. You’ll see.”

Bruce rolled his eyes behind his thick framed glasses with a small smile. He always envied Tony for his ability to envision the future and not be afraid. “Fine, I won’t doubt. What do you need me to do?” Bruce asked, and with a smile, Tony instructed.

Tony and Bruce only worked for about 2 hours before Tony announced he had to head back home and begin to prepare for the little dinner party. They cleaned up hastily and Bruce promised Tony he’d be there on time. Tony knew Bruce was naturally shy, but Steve’s friends had liked him, and so did Steve.

Tony thanked the weather gods that it wasn’t snowing when he started to walk back to his apartment. There was definitely snow, but it wasn’t heavy and most of it had combined with the dirt and pavement to make barely a slushy.

It was a hefty 40 minute walk back from Bruce’s to his own little home, but it was worth it to come out and tinker with his buddy. The tips of his ears hurt from the cold, and his hands were freezing but the thought of gifting Steve a motorcycle on his birthday was all the warmth Tony needed.

He was barely two blocks away from his building when he accidentally bumped into somebody else. His mind somewhere off far, thinking of numbers and details when it happened. “Sorry! I didn’t see where I was—” Tony’s words were out before his brown eyes could register who exactly he was apologizing to.

“Little Stark.” A thick Russian accent spoke.

Ivan Vanko was 6’4 feet of pure terror to Tony. Ivan lived not too far from Tony, and unfortunately this wasn’t his first incident where they happened to clash. He was one of the street boxers Steve had encountered but not yet fought. A cruel shiver ruptured through Tony at the imagery of Steve being beat bloody by this man.

“Ivan,” Tony shuffled back on his feet, putting some very much needed space between them. “Didn’t mean to bump into you. Was distracted.”

Ivan didn’t respond but he did however, flash Tony a wicked grin showing teeth. Some broken, some black and putrid from what Tony could only guess as poor dental hygiene.

“What? No American boy today?” Tony knew Ivan referred to Steve. The last encounter they have had, Steve had firmly planted himself between Ivan and Tony. A daring and dangerous look on his handsome features. Tony guessed Ivan took that as invitation to try and catch him without Steve around.

“Steve’s working,” He lied. Tony had zero intention of letting him come close to Steve. “Nice talking to you, Ivan I need to get going.” Tony didn’t let the Russian finish his sentence before he hurriedly brushed past Ivan, or at least attempted to.

Tony’s air had died in his lungs when he felt a strong hand yank his body back. Enough for Tony’s ear to line up with Ivan’s mouth. “Next time, Little Stark.” Ivan promised and let Tony’s arm free. Tony dared to look up where he was met his a sinister gaze. He didn’t need to be a genius to know that the next time they would cross that Ivan would try and hurt him.

His legs were rooted with fear before his fight or flight instinct kicked in and began to book it to his apartment. Tony could see Ivan even when his eyes closed. Ivan’s eyes raking over his body, holding promises Tony found devastating.

Once he was in front of his door, he let out the breath he’d been holding as he frantically opened his door and immediately closed it behind him. Tony was almost heaving when he noticed Steve, Bucky, Nat and Sam staring at him from the small, worn-out couch.

“Tony?” Steve was the first to break the silence; of course he was. He looked fresh out of the shower as he set his cards down and began to make his way to Tony.

Before Steve reached him, Tony briefly closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to regain control of his nerves as he shrugged out of his coat. “Hey, Ace.” Any other moment, Tony knew Steve would have smiled at his nickname, but Steve was doing everything but smiling.

“Are you ok? You look like you were running from the devil.” If he only knew. Tony gave a tight smile before pressing a kiss to his lips, hoping to leave the subject at the door.

“No, not running. I was speed walking over here, though. Didn’t want to be late for dinner.” Tony slipped from Steve and headed towards the kitchen.

“Its early, Tony.” That was Natasha’s voice that came from the living room. Her tone was worrying, but thankfully she didn’t push.

Tony began to wash his hands when he felt his husband’s hand coil around his waist and press a gentle kiss behind his neck. Steve didn’t say a thing, but he didn’t need to. Tony knew Steve would ask again later, when they were alone in their bed.

“I was promised casserole!” Clint singsonged from the couch, earning a glare from Tony.

“I promised Steve a casserole. Natasha is here because she’s with child. You, Bucky, and Sam have no business being here.” Tony hissed back at Clint, but they all knew better.

“You love us.” Sam as-a-matter-of-fact stated as he shuffled a deck.

“I have no other choice, trust me.” Tony rolled his eyes, trying his best to conceal a smile as he began to prepare dinner.

* * *


End file.
